Musings from a slow morning 

There’s just something about morning light that quietly beguiles me. Less of a statement than the sunset, it exists low key and assured, making no fuss about offering up boundless possibility and the hope of the new. If we can stop to take it in that is. ⁣⁣⁣

This is first morning in a while that hasn’t been dictated to by commitment or obligation. There was no jolt at the cry of an alarm, no whirring brain instantly picking back up on the thoughts I eventually dropped off to the night before. I’m about to wildly indulge in a gym session, followed by a haircut because this barnet has reached full mullet status, leaving me channeling the aesthetic of a dodgy 80’s pop star.

I’m just about managing, I think, to juggle two jobs with the rest of my life but the considered balance has been lost. I’m well aware that this is only doable for so long as I spread myself thinly, like the peanut butter I increasingly find myself eating straight from the jar because it’s easier than cooking in the interlude between job A and job B. More exhausting is the one million thoughts that come at me as I run for trains and yell hurried goodbyes, flying out of doors in the blink of an eye with my head in my phone, sending just one more email. My darling housemate is quietly keeping the flat going, even though she’s being pumped with drugs that are trying to preserve her life. I’m the one that’s supposed to make things easy for her. I’m so grateful for our four walls of unfiltered, unpretentious ease. I’m so, so grateful for her.

Dates have been sidelined because I’d rather spend my time making sure I have clean pants; friends repeatedly and profusely apologised to. The nights are late as I carry on working, and the mornings are early as I squeeze in dentist appointments and yet more emails. I know I’m lucky to be working this much, and such is the nature of being freelance – you have to say yes to the work while the work is there. But the rest of your life doesn’t stop when you do, and nor do the demands of your health.

I used to thrive off operating in this way. I still do – pressure is something I need. This feels like more of a teetering load; a precarious juggling act that I’m conscious for many is not a short term situation at all, but simply the reality of life with small children and money woes and elderly parents and a health condition or two thrown on top. In my first journalism job I literally ran from interview to interview all day every day, and then back to the office to make it on air in time for my bulletin, and I loved it. Dictated to by the clock, right down to the second, and I was a happily willing player; the Challenge Anneka of East Yorkshire and Northern Lincolnshire as I cruised in my news car back and forth over the Humber Bridge, going from court case to press conference, writing bulletins in my head, flicking between local stations en route to find the perfect soundtrack as I flicked between the different hurdles, different deadlines, different personas.

My world admittedly was smaller back then – less money, less commitments, less to think about, less to worry about. I filled it with fun, with noise, with anything but silence, with LIFE, which I don’t regret for a second. But life can be loud in other ways, in more quiet and conscious and considered ways when all the noises start to jar. I don’t think my type 1 diabetes is any more demanding now than it was at 23, but I’m perhaps more willing to make space for it. Maybe I’m just happier to sit with myself now, too. I relish the stillness of the in between moments – the space in which to catch your breath. The time to acknowledge the seemingly mundane morning light, as ridiculously grandiose as that may sound. For two more weeks it’s me and my two gadgets against the world. After just one more minute to take in the light.

Disclaimer: My Dexcom is gifted as I am part of the Dexcom Warrior programme.